


I'd Love to See You Try

by NotSimplySusurrus



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Missionary Position, Observed Masturbation, Punishment, Riding Crop, Spanking, Topping from the Bottom, after The Year That Never Was, bottom!Master, top!Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-28 04:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSimplySusurrus/pseuds/NotSimplySusurrus
Summary: Finally having had enough of the Master's bad behaviour, the Doctor decides that he may have to teach the Master a lesson in order to make him behave. But the Doctor isn't usually the one in charge, making his plan to punish the Master a lot more complicated than he'd first envisioned.





	I'd Love to See You Try

**Author's Note:**

> I'm usually not a big fan of the idea of the Doctor being on top in Thoschei-related situations, but I just had this idea and had to see it out. Hope I'm not the only one who enjoys it. Let me know what you think!

When the Doctor had taken on responsibility for his long-time friend and frequent adversary, he hadn’t supposed that it would be an easy task. He knew full-well how things could…spontaneously combust when the Master was bored or angry or upset. The man really liked fire—liked to see things burn—but the Doctor quickly tired of this behaviour. Though he wanted with every fibre of his being for the Master to stay with him, there had to be ground rules. He couldn’t allow the Master to run amuck and walk all over him. He’d tried giving the Master an outlet for his destructive tendencies, which had mixed results. The Doctor let the Master whip and choke and fuck him because it helped them get along better when they weren’t in bed together. Or leaning up against the console of the TARDIS for support. Or bent over the kitchen table. Or on the floor of countless rooms. 

If anything, the Master had always been creative. 

The Doctor could admit to himself that he liked it. He liked being the Master’s plaything. Sometimes it was because it felt like penance for his sins, but he had a hard time admitting to himself that most of the time it was simply because he liked being treated that way. But no matter how much he enjoyed being roughed up, he couldn’t allow the Master to continue to break his things or burn his ties on a whim. He resolved to confront the other man about the matter, and the best time to speak with the Master about anything was after he’d finished using the Doctor’s body for his pleasure. 

These were the things the Doctor had on his mind as he lay beside the Master in his bed after a surprisingly gentle and considerate session. It had been so gentle, in fact, that the Doctor thought he could even consider it ‘love-making’—though the moniker was terribly silly. The Master didn’t love anyone, least of all him. The Doctor felt that he was probably just another conquer on the no doubt lengthy list of others that the Master had to boast. The Doctor looked over at the Master, who was staring at the ceiling very seriously. He was probably deep in thought, but this conversation couldn’t wait much longer. 

“I’ve been thinking,” the Doctor began softly. He was worried about startling the Master and putting him in a bad mood, so he spoke quietly and chose his words carefully. “Perhaps you could consider not breaking my dishware or burning my clothes or hiding my sonic,” the Doctor said. He bit his lip, worried that the Master may hit him and tarnish the memory of what they’d just done with a rough and painful punishment fuck. He’d made himself very clear on how he felt about the Doctor questioning his authority in the bedroom, and the Doctor figured they were still there—meaning this could count as that, too. The Master said nothing for a long moment, leaving the Doctor in anxious suspense. Eventually he smiled up at the ceiling. 

“What are you going to do?” The Master asked, his tone both challenging and mocking at the same time. “Punish me for being a bad boy?” The Doctor felt flustered by the insinuation, reddening and losing his train of thought. Surely the Master would never allow him to do such a thing. The Master used the Doctor’s body for his own pleasure. That was how it had always gone. He didn’t ask what the Doctor wanted—perhaps, the Doctor thought, because he already knew—and he certainly never let the Doctor be in charge. The Doctor didn’t think he was fit for such a role, anyway. But maybe, just maybe, this was exactly what the Doctor needed to do to set some boundaries. The mere thought of it was preposterous, but the Doctor thought he had nothing to lose. If the Master had been joking, this would be going no further, anyway. 

“Maybe,” the Doctor said with a shrug. At this, the Master laughed out loud—as if this was the funniest thing anyone had ever said to him. The Doctor felt embarrassed, his cheeks burning when the Master finally caught his breath and rolled over to face him. Though his gaze was intense, the Master was smiling. The Doctor suddenly felt very sure that he’d made a mistake. 

“I’d love to see you try,” the Master said, looking directly into the Doctor’s eyes. This was a challenge, then, the Doctor decided. If the Master wanted to test him, then the Doctor was happy to play this bizarre game of his. Maybe it’d make the Master respect him enough to leave his belongings alone. He nodded feebly, still unsure of what to make of all of this. “Get on with it, then,” the Master said, making the Doctor flush impossibly redder. His brain very much wanted to reply with an obedient ‘yes Master,’ but that wouldn’t do, what with the Doctor now supposed to be the one in charge and all. “Hmm,” the Master pouted. “That was probably rude of me, wasn’t it? I’m so sorry, Doctor. Or would you prefer to be called sir?” Everything the Master said only served to embarrass the Doctor more. But he was supposed to be the one in charge, now. Maybe this was the Master’s way of trying to talk him out of it. Reverse psychology? This thought made the Doctor feel surer of himself. 

“You may address me as such,” he said. The Doctor had never been one for authoritative titles, seeing as how most people he’d been instructed to call ‘sir’ in his life treated him horribly. The Master scoffed and shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face. 

“Yes, sir,” he said with a chuckle. The Doctor sat up and stared blankly ahead of himself, wondering how he always got himself into these sorts of situations and thinking hard about what to do next. The Master frequently punished him with a whip, cane, riding crop, or other spanking implement. Maybe he could manage that, too? The Doctor stood and went off to find something like that. He ended up rummaging around in one of the drawers of his dresser where they kept ‘emergency’—as the Master had put it—supplies. Sure enough, there was a riding crop hidden away in the back of the drawer. The Doctor’s hands shook as he picked the thing up, as if worried it may attack and punish him of its own accord. He was the one deserving of that kind of treatment, anyway. The Doctor sighed, once more unsure if he could do this or not. He made to push the drawer closed, but a shiny bottle of lube caught his eye. The Doctor snagged that, too, figuring it couldn’t hurt to have it close by. He approached the bed to find the Master on his back pretending to be asleep. The Doctor prodded him in the side to let him know he’d returned. “Took you long enough,” the Master said simply. He opened his eyes and took in the sight of the Doctor above him. “Good choice,” he mused, grinning. 

“Bend over—bend over the, um, bed.” Saying such things had the Doctor feeling flustered all over again. How could the Master allow the Doctor to say such things to him? He was supposed to be the one in charge. He was the one who did the punishing. All of the weirdness of the role reversal made the Doctor’s head spin. The Master offered a snarky ‘yes sir’ and slid off the bed to move to the bottom of it. He bent over with a teasing wiggle of his hips which made the Doctor look away. How could the Master be so comfortable exposing himself like this when—given his nature—he’d probably never done it before in his life. The Doctor tossed the lube on the bed and stood behind the Master, grasping the riding crop tightly in both of his hands. He’d never hit anyone with such a thing, and quite frankly, he didn’t know how he was supposed to. The Master had bruised and bloodied his arse with it on plenty of occasions, but it’s not like the Doctor had been paying attention to his technique. No, he’d been crying and begging for the Master’s forgiveness. The Doctor bit his lip and held the crop in one of his hands. He swung it through the air a few times to get used to the way it felt to swing it. The sound reminded him of many nights he’d had to sleep on his stomach due to the fiery pain of his arse. The Master looked back at him.

“Oh, the suspense is killing me,” he said flatly before turning ‘round again with a bored sigh. The Doctor ran the riding crop across the Master’s lower back, recalling the Master having done it to him on occasion. He took a deep breath, drew the riding crop back, closed his eyes tight, and swatted the Master’s arse. 

The Master giggled—actually giggled—in response. “You can hit me harder than that,” he said. The Doctor opened his eyes only just a little, finding the riding crop still pressed against the Master’s skin. He withdrew it to discover that it hadn’t even left a mark. The Doctor tried again, hitting the Master a little bit harder this time. “Oh, that was better,” the Master said, wiggling his hips again. “Come on, make it hurt,” he taunted. The Doctor hit him again, finally hard enough to leave a red welt. The Master grinned back at him. “Do it again,” he said, moaning softly. At this, the Doctor paused. He was supposed to be the one in charge, yet the Master had managed to seize control once again. It was time for him to stop holding back. Surely the Master could take a spanking. 

“You’re not supposed to speak unless spoken to,” the Doctor said, trying to sound authoritative despite the way his voice shook. The Master pretended to draw a zipper across his lips and toss a key. “Good…boy,” the Doctor said, which made the Master wiggle his hips once again. He smiled back at the Doctor once more before lying back down on the bed and widening his stance. The Doctor hit him once again, drawing a moan past the Master’s lips. Determined to make this a real punishment, the Doctor drew his arm back further that he had any time before and swung the riding crop just about as hard as he could manage. This startled the Master, who hissed in pain, and in turn, spooked the Doctor as well. He skittered backward a few steps, worried about possibly having made the Master cross. 

“Fucking hell,” the Master said, making the Doctor flinch. Did he sound angry? Surely, he was angry. The Doctor could feel his body trembling. He watched, eyes wide and terrified as the Master reached back to run his fingers over the spot where the Doctor had just hit him. “Didn’t think you had that in you.” He paused a moment before adding a snarky, “sir.” Though feeling slightly indignant about the Master disobeying the one rule the Doctor had tried to enforce, actually, properly hurting the Master scared the Doctor a little too much to continue. He dropped the riding crop—certain that it had a mind of his own—and brushed his own fingers across the angry, red mark he’d left on the Master’s arse. He wanted to apologise or beg to be forgiven or simply collapse onto the ground and cry. Doing that had felt wrong. It wasn’t the Doctor’s place to issue such a punishment. His lip trembled, as he tried to think of something appropriate to say.

“I—” 

“Don’t get weepy on me now, Doctor,” the Master said with an exasperated sigh. “You brought lube over here, didn’t you?” The Doctor nodded miserably. “Fuck me, then.” The Doctor was truly shocked by such words. He could never—the Master would never allow him to do such a thing. But here the Master was, telling the Doctor precisely what he’d always thought impossible—if he’d ever thought about such a thing at all. It wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. He wanted to ask, ‘who are you and what have you done with my Master?’ This, too, had to be a trick. Maybe he was even dreaming it all up? The Doctor pinched himself hard, and it hurt. He was completely awake.

“How could I?” The Doctor asked, feeling helpless and confused. He bit his lip, crossing his arms and thinking hard about what any of this could mean—what was the Master playing at? How far would he let this go? The Master answered that question for the Doctor, standing to grab the bottle of lube. Surely this was the end of the insanity, the Doctor thought, closing his eyes tight. The Doctor felt that the Master was surely upset about the Doctor hitting him, but he was hiding it. He was probably about to chuck the lube far away and punish the Doctor for daring to inflict such pain on him. Or maybe he’d throw it at the Doctor to accentuate the fact that he had no intention of using it for his punishment, and then he’d wait for a moment when the Doctor wasn’t suspecting it to hold him down and fuck him brutally. The Doctor always hated when the Master used sex as a means to punish his bad behaviour, but he thought it only made sense now. He deserved to be punished for what he’d done. The Master, however, appeared to have no such intentions of doing that. 

“What is wrong with you?” The Master asked. The Doctor thought that sounded like a good way to start a punishment. But something about the Master’s tone was…off? It sounded exasperated but not angry. The Master placed his hand on the Doctor’s shoulder, but the gentle action made the Doctor jump as he was expecting imminent and harsh punishment. He opened his eyes just a little to squint at the Master. The Master rolled his eyes and grabbed the Doctor’s hand to place the little bottle of lube in it. The Doctor was utterly shocked by the action, blinking as if to discern whether or not his eyes were working correctly and unable to say anything at all in response. “I’m not the one who’s supposed to be in charge, so consider this a suggestion: —” the Master, in order to speak directly into the Doctor’s ear, had to stand on his toes “—Fuck. Me.” The Doctor shivered as the Master returned to standing flat on his feet. When the Doctor made no response, the Master waved his hand around in front of the other man’s face. “Hello? Ground control to Doctor. Do you copy?” 

“Y—yes, I just…” the Doctor trailed off, unsure of what about this upset him so deeply. How did the Master manage to own him so completely that such a simple task like ‘being in charge’ became impossible? The Doctor knew how to have sex. Every able-bodied, penis-endowed creature could thrust its hips. But this—this was the Master. It felt like violation of the worst kind even though the Master stood before him repeatedly telling him to do it. Perhaps it was some sort of test? 

But the Doctor’s mind couldn’t help but wander back to his original grievance with the Master. He wanted the Master to behave himself. And perhaps his best bet at getting exactly what he wanted was to pass this odd test of the Master’s. The only question was whether or not the Doctor was supposed to do as the Master said or not. Behaving himself may win him what he wanted on the pretence of good behaviour. But maybe it was a show of strength that the Master really wanted? Directly refusing to do what he said was surely just that. All of these questions were tearing the Doctor’s mind to shreds. It was all so confusing. He wished the Master would simply explain himself and stop playing these enigmatic games. 

“Did I break you, Doctor?” The Master asked, sounding—oddly enough—genuinely concerned. He squeezed the Doctor’s shoulder for good measure. The Doctor merely shook his head, but the concern in the Master voice calmed the storm in his mind. He decided to be a good boy and obey his Master’s command like he always did—like he was supposed to. 

“Lie down,” the Doctor said softly. At this, the Master grinned up at the Doctor. He offered an excited-sounding ‘yes sir’ and flopped onto the bed. He crossed his arms behind his head, looking up at the Doctor with that familiar, sly expression on his face. There was certainly more to all of what was going on, but the Doctor figured that he may never find out what it was. He made his peace with that—after all, the most important thing in his new life with the Master was his obedience. He very much liked when the Master called him a good boy, and now he was determined to prove once more that he was just that. He settled on top of the Master, fumbling clumsily with the lube. He’d nearly gotten it open when the Master startled him by spreading his legs. “Maybe could you?” The Doctor asked, holding out the bottle for the Master to see. He nodded and beamed again, taking it from the Doctor and opening it with ease. “Are you sure about this?” 

“I don’t have to be sure about anything,” the Master replied cryptically. “You’re the one in charge, sir.” Despite feeling somewhat indignant about the Master’s response being bratty, the Doctor felt oddly reassured by what he said. The Doctor took a deep breath, repeating the Master words to himself in his head. The Master was right; he was in charge.

"Right,” he said simply. The Doctor took the now open bottle of lube from the Master and poured a generous amount onto his fingers. Hands shaking, the Doctor reached in between the Master’s legs and slowly pushed one of his fingers inside of the man below him. The Master’s thighs tensed slightly at the intrusion, but if he was in pain, he made no further indication of it. The Doctor fingered him gently, still surprised that the Master was allowing any of this to happen at all. The Master said nothing, watching the Doctor’s face curiously. Every so often, he sighed softly. The sound kind of scared the Doctor a little bit the first couple of times the Master did it, but he quickly got used to it—came to like it, even. It at least reminded him that they were both, in fact, alive as opposed to him being in some awful circle of hell. Would such an event constitute as hell? The Doctor wasn’t so sure, but it had certainly been largely unpleasant since it began. With this concerning thought in mind, the Doctor carefully pushed another finger inside the Master, who did nothing more than sigh once again. 

“If I may, I have another suggestion.” Despite him speaking quietly, the Master’s voice startled the Doctor. The Doctor blushed, frustrated with himself for being so skittish. Only the Master could cause him to behave this way. He looked away but nodded. “Curl your fingers a bit,” the Master said. The Doctor quickly obliged, making the Master moan. “Yeah, that’s the spot.” The Master bit his lip, smiling up at him. The Doctor, now curling his fingers to brush against the Master’s prostate as he fingered him, chastised himself for not thinking to do it sooner. It surely made the situation infinitely better for the Master, who had closed his eyes and was now panting softly. Watching the pleasure play out on the Master’s beautiful face, the Doctor reluctantly added another finger. He knew that this meant the Master would be ready to handle his cock soon, which brought all of the anxious and confusing feelings back. 

“Are you—are you ready, Master?” The Doctor asked tentatively, silently begging the Master to call him stupid and tell him this had all been to see how far he’d go. Then the Doctor could be punished like he deserved to be, and they could put all of this discomfort behind them. But alas, the Master nodded enthusiastically. The Doctor sighed, pulling his fingers out of the Master and feeling around for the lube again. He had to have the Master open it again, as his hand was shaking too badly to be of any use. 

“Despite your nervousness, I can tell you’re enjoying this,” the Master said gesturing in between the two of them with his chin. The Doctor’s eyes followed to find that the Master was right about that. Though he had not liked any of this at all, the Doctor was hard. He flushed a deep red, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. The Doctor looked anywhere but back at the Master, who took the opportunity to coat his cock with lube. “I believe we’re ready for action,” the Master said. He didn’t seem any closer to backing out of this than when he’d suggested that the Doctor fuck him in the first place. The Doctor reminded himself that, in all technicality, he was merely following his Master’s instructions like he always did—despite these instructions being completely bizarre and out of character. Regardless, he was determined to be a good boy. 

“We…are,” the Doctor said, trying to think of a way to stall further. His hand continued to shake as he lined his cock up. He stared at the Master intently, trying to discern if this was the right thing to do. The Master smiled at him. Was that a challenge or another encouragement? Pushing in just a little bit felt really good, but the Doctor could barely register the pleasure as he observed the Master’s face for any sign of pain or anger. The Master chuckled, closing his eyes and looking content. He pushed in a little bit more, and the Master’s expression remained the same. The Doctor thought that this was all going suspiciously well. He continued carefully easing his cock in, and the Master continued to seem perfectly content. When he finally managed to get all the way inside, the Master’s eyes flashed open. The Doctor immediately panicked, staring down at the Master with wide, frightened eyes.

“Fuck, Doctor, I—”

“I’m so, so sorry!” The Doctor said hurriedly, fully prepared to grovel and beg for the Master’s forgiveness. “I’m sorry—this was stupid, I should have never, ever thought that—” Much to his surprise, the Master began to laugh. 

“I was going to say I remembered the name of that Earth game I was trying to think of the other day,” he said. “Chess but stupid—it’s checkers.” The Master nodded, looking very pleased with himself. 

“Master!” The Doctor was livid. “You made me think I hurt you.” He glared down at the other man, not believing what had just happened. How could the Master be so oblivious to what such a thing would sound like to the Doctor? He was incorrigible. The Doctor’s jaw clenched as he thought once more about how fed up he had become with the Master’s behaviour. Even if this was all some stupid test, and the Doctor had failed by not standing up to the Master, the Master certainly deserved this. The Doctor began to thrust his hips before the Master could respond to him, making the other man gasp. The Master moaned, grabbing the Doctor’s face to pull him closer and kiss him. 

“That’s good,” the Master said appreciatively when he pushed the Doctor away for air. He sounded rather surprised at this. The Doctor had to admit that he, too, was surprised by how much he was enjoying this. Despite his reservations from before, the Doctor felt amazing. He whimpered and nodded, wondering why he still felt that the Master was completely in control of everything. The Master wrapped his legs around the Doctor’s waist, moving his own hips in time with the Doctor’s thrusts. He couldn’t stop all of the pleasured whimpers and moans flooding past his lips as the Doctor fucked him. The Master seemed to want—need—more. He pulled the Doctor close again, kissing him sloppily and hungrily. He couldn’t get enough of the feeling of the Doctor’s lips against his. The Doctor gasped, moaning loudly each time the Master pulled away enough for him to get the sound out unhindered. 

The Doctor parted his lips in surprise when the Master pushed his tongue inside of the Doctor’s mouth. Though the Master had done it plenty of times before, this time felt different for the Doctor. The Master wasn’t as domineering or possessive with it as he normally was. He seemed more exploratory. He was curious. The soft, pleasured sighs which passed between them when the Master backed off to breathe warmed the Doctor’s hearts. He had seldom known of the Master to be so agreeable and…almost loving? The thought scared the Doctor for some reason. The Master didn’t love him or anyone else. Thinking that he did was a dangerous thought exercise which could only end in pain. Perhaps ‘tender’ was more accurate. Yes, the Doctor thought, ‘tender’ would do. Either way, it was all very strange for the Doctor. But the strangeness didn’t stop him from getting close incredibly fast. 

“Master, I think I might—” The Doctor wasn’t sure he knew how to finish that since—nor was he sure that he wanted to. One, serious-looking glare from the Master made it abundantly clear that he was absolutely not allowed to finish inside. The Doctor laughed nervously in an attempt to diffuse the tension and nodded to demonstrate that he understood. But he couldn’t hold off much longer. The Doctor’s body was burning for release. In accordance with the Master’s wishes, he made sure to pull out before he came, his semen splattering onto the Master’s chest. The Master smiled, rolling his eyes and mumbling something about the Doctor being sensitive and easy to please. 

Before the Doctor could offer to help get him there too, the Master took things into his own hands—rather literally—using the Doctor’s cum to bring himself off, too. The sight of this had the Doctor stuck in place. He couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath without breathing too hard so as to be able to hear the soft sounds the Master was making as he stroked himself. The Doctor’s eyes were transfixed on the movement of the Master’s hand in between them. He only managed to tear them away every so often to catch a glimpse of pleasure on the Master’s face before once more focusing on his hand and cock. The Master grinned lazily up at the Doctor, bucking his hips into his closed fist until he came all over his hand. The Doctor licked his lips, wanting a taste of his Master—though he’d also be tasting himself, seeing as how his semen and the Master’s had now become all mixed together in the Master’s hand and on his chest. He figured that, given he was ‘in charge’, he ought to do what he liked. With this in mind, the Doctor grabbed the Master’s hand and carefully licked it clean, making sure to do it thoroughly. The Master watched it happen with a small smirk on his face. 

“It would seem I taste pretty good, huh?” He asked with a weak laugh, coughing in the middle of it as he was still trying to even his breathing out. The Doctor nodded happily, moving down the Master’s body to lap up the rest of it from the Master’s chest and stomach. When he finished, the Doctor settled down beside the Master, curling up next to him and resting his head on the other man’s chest. The pair lay in silence for a few moments before the Doctor felt the need—as he frequently did—to break it. 

“Why did you do this?” The Doctor asked, looking up at the Master. With all of the pleasurable feelings now receded, the nervous and confusing ones had room to crowd his brain once again. His stomach was in knots again, as he wondered once more if this had been a test and whether or not he’d passed. 

“I like making you nervous,” the Master replied. “Why should I need any other explanation than fucking with you?” The Master smiled at this pun. “Well, literally and figuratively.” The idea that this was nothing more than another attempt to unsettle him made the Doctor incredibly upset. He sat up, scooting away from the Master angrily. He went so far as to find himself at the edge of the bed and dangled his legs over the side. The Doctor thought he maybe ought to get out of the room before he said something he’d regret. He wanted the Master to stay with him more than anything, but he couldn’t continue to be jerked around like this. It was emotionally draining, and the Doctor had experienced enough hardship in his life. Paired with the Master’s frequent bad behaviour, the Doctor was at his wit’s end. He stood, preparing to leave the Master alone but thought better of it. He deserved to say his piece before going, at least. The Doctor decided that he didn’t care in the least if it upset the Master. He’d come back to burnt ties and only Rassilon knew what else, but maybe, just maybe, it’d be worth it. Would whatever other punishment the Master decided to inflict upon his body be worth it, though? The Doctor wasn’t sure. He took a few, tentative steps toward the door, wondering what the Master would think up for his punishment this time. The Doctor reasoned that he’d break down and say what he wanted eventually, so it might as well be now. 

“We need to talk,” the Doctor said, speaking far louder than he’d intended to. He turned back around to face the bed where the Master was now lying on his side, watching the Doctor. 

“About what?” The Master replied levelly. 

“About you.” The Doctor gestured around wildly, not understanding how the Master couldn’t see that his behaviour was driving the Doctor up the wall—or… how he could not care that it was. “And your frankly ridiculous behaviour. I have had enough of you destroying or hiding my property every time I make you in the least bit upset. You’re acting like a child, and I can’t take it anymore!” The serious look on the Master’s face worried the Doctor, as the Master was surely thinking up the very best way to punish the Doctor for shouting at him. “I’ve had enough,” the Doctor said softly. He didn’t want the Master to lash out at him for this, but he simply didn’t know what else to do about it all. 

“I see,” the Master said. These two, simple words frightened the Doctor horribly. What was that supposed to even mean? Would the Master leave him? The Doctor didn’t want the Master to leave him. That would devastate him. The Master stood, further putting the Doctor on edge. He supposed he could ask the TARDIS to get the Master lost if he tried to leave—give him some time to sort out his anger. Maybe he’d be more reasonable after that? But that wasn’t right. The Doctor sighed, preparing himself for the worst. The Master walked right up to him, convincing the Doctor that he was about to be yelled at. 

But strangely enough, the Master laughed. That serious, borderline angry façade of his collapsed as soon as he was face-to-face with the Doctor. He bent over himself laughing. The Doctor watched him, worried that he’d finally, truly lost his mind. The Master laughed until he was gasping for breath. He straightened back up, and the Doctor glimpsed tears in his eyes from the force of his laughter. He grinned wider than the Cheshire Cat, looking more pleased with himself than the Doctor had ever seen him.

“It took you long enough,” the Master said. He giggled, shaking his head. “I’ve been trying to break you for months.” The Master clapped the Doctor on the back affectionately. “Got to hand it to you, I didn’t think you’d last as long as you have.”

“Wh—what?” The Doctor stammered in disbelief. 

“When I said yes to gracing you with my constant presence, I meant it, Doctor,” the Master said, smiling again. He paused a moment, the smile fading from his handsome face. “But I needed to make sure you weren’t just doing all of this for the good of the universe.” The Doctor was taken aback. How could he have been so blind? Had he made it seem like letting the Master have his way with him was a chore? He thought he probably looked stupid standing there, mouth open and hands out before him as if to try and shape the situation into some form that made sense, so he settled for crossing his arms and frowning in confusion. 

“Why?” The Doctor asked. “Why would you do that?” Upon hearing this question, the Master laughed once more. 

“Because I love you, stupid,” he said. “And I’ve never loved anyone else before.” The Master looked away then, cheeks reddening slightly. The Doctor was surprised to see him looking so embarrassed. The Master didn’t get embarrassed about anything. “I couldn’t bear to tell you until I was sure you felt the same way, and what better test than driving you bonkers?”

“I...do,” the Doctor mumbled, trying his best to process all of this weirdness. The Master loved him? He said it? He’d said he loved the Doctor with his own mouth, of his own accord? Surely this was a trick. Surely, he just wanted the Doctor to admit how he felt to mock him. The Master didn’t love the Doctor. The Master didn’t love anyone. And yet he’d said it—and he’d sounded so sincere. The Master looked back up at the Doctor and offered a small smile. The pleading look in his eyes was equally as sincere as his words had been. But the Master had always been good at pretending. The Doctor figured the only way to find out whether or not the Master was telling the truth was to admit how he truly felt. Should the Master be lying, the Doctor’s hearts would be shattered into a million pieces, but at least he’d know for sure. “Of course, I feel the same,” the Doctor said. He looked down at his feet, terrified of meeting the Master’s eyes. “I love you, Master. I have always loved you. And, even if this is some new torture you’ve masterminded, I will always love you.” The Doctor was startled to find the Master’s hand brushing up against his cheek. He looked up to find the other man far closer to him than before. 

“It’s not a trick,” the Master assured him. “We’ve both been lonely too long not to admit how we’ve always felt, don’t you think?” The Doctor nodded in response, bubbling with happiness and feeling far too shocked to say anything more. “Now kiss me, sir,” the Master teased before pressing his lips against the Doctor’s. The Doctor was happy to let everything be back in the Master’s control. Being in charge was surprisingly difficult, and the Master always did it so well. The Doctor whimpered involuntarily when the Master pulled away. “Don’t worry pretty, little whore. You’re going to pay for your stint playing at being me,” the Master said with a chuckle. His hands wandered down to the Doctor’s cock, giving it a few, teasing strokes. 

“Oh, yes Master,” the Doctor moaned. 

“That’s a good boy,” the Master replied. And, though a little rocked by the professions of love, the universe was back in its natural order once again. After all, deep down the Doctor supposed he’d always known—and he’d always loved his Master.


End file.
